“You shouldn’t have paid for the therapy to begin with, especially once I got the restitution payment.” Her voice is a hoarse whisper due to the damage Dunbar caused, but her tone is unbending.
“Is this where I’m supposed to apologize? Because I’m not going to.” I rise to my feet. “Yes, I’m sorry I lied to you about the state paying for it. But I’m not sorry I did what I could to get you the help you needed.”
She stands, a crooked smile curving her sweet lips. “Do I want you to apologize because you were concerned about me?” She takes a step closer and wraps her arms around my neck. “No. Never.” She kisses me, her lips a brief touch I feel over every inch of my body and deep in my soul. “Am I sorry I started seeing Robyn because you thought it would help me?” Another kiss. “Definitely not. You’re just lucky you apologized for lying.” Her smile wavers, and she reverses a step. “But just so you know, I won’t put up with you doing something like that again. I never again want to feel like I’m being manipulated. By you or anyone else.”
“I promise I’ll talk to you first.” I don’t want to argue or diminish her reasons for feeling that way. I get it. As much as I want to help her, I don’t want to be the asshole who takes away her independence or dictates her life like her husband did.
Her smile returns, and she shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I fell for your lie. Why would I believe for even a second the state of Oregon was paying for it?”
I hook her waist with my good arm and pull her to me. “I love you, Jess. I don’t regret paying for your therapy. And I wouldn’t have regretted it even if you hadn’t found out and paid me back. But like I said, my company insurance’ll cover it now. You don’t need to pay for it out of your restitution payment. That money is for building your future.”
I press my finger to her lips. “You’re supposed to be resting your voice.” I hate to make her stop talking, but she really does need to let her throat recover. When I first met her back in March, she barely spoke. She has come a long way since then, giving voice to her beliefs and her thoughts. But as much as I love that, her recovery is more important for now.
“What I need is a shower,” Jess says against my finger. “I know I had one at the hospital…” A shudder punctuates the end of her sentence. “I just want to make sure I got everything out of my hair.”
She doesn’t have to say it. I know what she’s referring to. Dunbar’s blood.
“I can help you. If you want.”
“I was counting on that,” she whispers.
Jess leads me upstairs to the bathroom and closes the door. And then she just stands there, shaking, as if the past few hours are finally catching up with her. She seems smaller, fragile, as though she’s teetering on a narrow ledge, ready to fall.
I put my hand that’s free of the sling onto her hip, curling my fingers around her, letting her know I’m here for her.
She blows a slow breath over her parted lips and nods. She tugs her top over her head, revealing her pink bra and the pushed-up mounds of her sweet breasts. Peaked nipples press against the cotton of her bra, silently pleading for me to worship them, to soothe away her worries and her fears.
Her T-shirt drops to the floor.
Jess unfastens my sling, places it on the bathroom counter, and lifts the hem of my T-shirt up my body. I grab the fabric with my good arm and remove the T-shirt. It lands on the floor, somewhere near Jess’s top.
I don’t make a move. I wait to see what she wants to do next. She’s the one in control. I sense she needs that.
She shimmies out of her shorts and watches me one-handedly rid myself of my shorts, socks, and boxer briefs. I’m standing naked and exposed, my cock at half-mast.
I trace along the gentle curve of her shoulder and down the silky length of her arm. My gaze remains locked on hers. Desire and an unnamed emotion shine back at me and send a wave of heat sweeping through my body.
I lower my head and take her mouth in a tender kiss. I want to devour her, to fill her with my love, but something about her expression, the grief and regret, has me holding back. I kiss her lips again, the touch of our mouths brief, then plant a gentle kiss on her forehead.
I turn on the shower. Steam pours into the bathroom from the other side of the glass door.
Jess reaches behind her and unhooks her bra. It drops to the floor, and she slides her panties down her legs, leaving her naked…other than the bruises on her neck and the scars on her body from the years of abuse.
Bruises and scars I wish I could simply kiss away. Kiss away and leave her fully healed both inside and out.
Without waiting for me, she steps into the shower. Water sluices over her body, loving every inch of her skin. Water soaks through her hair, turning the blond strands dark.
My length hardens at the sight in front of me, but as much as my body wants her, as much asIwant her, I’m not going there.
I join her in the shower and grab the shampoo from the shelf. I pour the liquid into my hand, lather it up, and massage it into her scalp. My shoulder protests at the movement but not enough for me to stop. This—washing Jess’s hair—won’t make things worse as far as my shoulder is concerned. It’s stiff, achy, a little crabby, but the heat of the shower is also helping it.
I continue massaging her scalp, kneading it, circling my fingers through the thick, wet strands. The movement is intimate. I don’t ever want it to end. Don’t ever want to stop touching her this way. This fully.
Jess moans and lays her head on my good shoulder. I kiss the crook of her neck. “I love you,” I whisper on her wet skin, the words not loud enough to be heard over the water raining against the tiles. I repeat it, allowing the whispered words to soak into her body, to be sent to her heart.
I know she’s not ready to say the words back to me—maybe she never will be—but I want to make sure she knows that she is loved. Her parents didn’t care enough to show her any love. Only her grandparents did that, but they’re gone. It’s my life mission to never let a day go by without her feeling adored, wanted, cherished.
Jess’s body trembles under my fingertips. I wrap her in my arms and kiss her temple. I don’t ask her if she’s okay or what’s wrong. I don’t need to. The adrenaline overload from this evening has peaked and has nowhere to go.
